let me catch my breath
by eponnia
Summary: Modern AU. Say the word and I'm already there. [Previously titled A Little House We Can Build On A Bay; the sequel/epilogue to "The Coffee Shop," but can be read as a standalone piece. 2012 film Enjonine one-shot.]


SUMMARY: Modern AU. Say the word and I'm already there. [Sequel/epilogue to "The Coffee Shop" but can be read as a standalone piece. Not a songfic but inspired by "Run Away With Me" from The Unauthorized Autobiography of Samantha Brown. 2012 film Enjonine one-shot.]

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the sequel/epilogue to _The Coffee Shop_, but you don't need to read the other story to understand this. As I said in the summary, this is inspired by _Run Away With Me_ from _The Unauthorized Autobiography of Samantha Brown_. Aaron Tveit sang this in 2008, and I absolutely fell in love with this song. This is completely, utterly, and blatantly Enjonine, with Aaron Tveit as Enjolras and Samantha Barks as Éponine. Enjoy! **

* * *

_"A good snapshot stops a moment from running away."_

_-Eudora Welty_

* * *

_snapshot one – the candid conversation_

They were seated together on a park bench, watching the sunset, when she spoke.

"What do you think about eloping?"

Enjolras looked at his girlfriend. "Eloping?"

Éponine met his gaze. "We've been together for almost two years."

"True," he said carefully, knowing full well he was treading on thin ice. "Care to expound?"

"There's not much to eloping."

"I know, and please don't take this the wrong way, but what made you… _decide_ to think about this?"

Éponine laughed at his cautious expression and phrasing. "It takes a lot to offend me. Don't worry." She leaned into him, and he put an arm around her shoulders. "We've gone through a lot together, and I think we deserve to find a little corner of the world we can call our own." She shifted to lay her head on his shoulder as he rested his chin on the top of her dark hair. "And since you're one of those guys who wants to wait, the only way I can get you to that corner of the world is with a ring." She moved back to look up at him. "Seriously though, I'm kind of glad we've waited this long."

"But by suggesting eloping, it indicates you don't want to wait much longer."

"Ah, the marble statue attempted to make a joke!" Éponine exclaimed. "You need more practice, though," she added with a grin.

"I'll enlist Grantaire."

"Do you really think that's the best idea?"

"Probably not."

They looked at each other for a moment, and Enjolras spoke. "I assume you don't want a big wedding?"

"Do you take me as a bridezilla?" She scoffed. "Marius and Cosette's wedding was nice, but I'd like something small. Nothing flashy."

"Then let's do it."

Éponine stared at him. It was one thing for _her_ to casually bring up running away to get married, but _did he just ask_–

"Let's get married," Enjolras said quietly, looking at her with those blue eyes she swore could see straight through her. He took her hand in his, running his thumb over her knuckles. "If you want me to get down on one knee, I'll do it–"

"No, no, it's fine," Éponine said quickly, scrambling to process his words and form a coherent sentence.

"I'd be giving you a ring right now, but we just talked about eloping, so forgive me for not being prepared…" He trailed off, looking at her. "Please, say something, 'Ponine. I'm starting to think your answer is no–"

She kissed him.

Drawing back and fighting tears, a torrent of jumbled words poured from her. "I never even let myself dream of getting a proposal," she said, running a hand through her hair. _Stop being so emotional!_ she ordered herself, but her feelings ran on their own accord; she couldn't even think straight. "I mean, no one's ever asked me before, but why would they? I'm not the girl they'll marry, I'm just the trial run before they actually settle down. I–"

He kissed her.

"You're the girl _I_ will marry," he said. "If you'll have me, that is."

Tears came to her eyes. "Yes."

* * *

_snapshot two – the castle in the sky_

"There's no one else you want to invite?" Enjolras asked, scanning the list between them.

Éponine shrugged. "I don't have a wide circle of friends or family." She shot him a look that said _don't you dare pity me_, and he cleared his throat.

"Have you thought about where you'd like to live?" he asked. "Once we're married?"

"Actually, yes," Éponine said, moving her laptop – a gift from Enjolras from their first Christmas together as a couple – in front of her, turning it so her fiancé could view the screen. "I found a waterfront property."

As Enjolras looked through the website, he commented, "I didn't know you want to live in the country."

"My parents brought me to the city when I was young, and I guess I never left because I had nowhere else to go. But, as surprising as it seems, I'm not really a city person." She continued as Enjolras finished looking over the site and met her gaze. "I know it's kind of expensive and it's probably way out of our price range. I'll be fine if we end up staying here in the city. It's just a dream, a fantasy. Nothing serious."

"We'll look into it," Enjolras said with a smile. "I promise."

She gave him a dimpled smile.

* * *

_snapshot three – the envelope_

Éponine and Enjolras came to a compromise – they didn't elope and actually had a ceremony that friends and family could attend, but it wasn't extravagant. He took her to tell his parents of the wedding; they didn't exactly approve of their son's choice of a bride but were at least glad he was finally settling down. His parents were invited to the ceremony but told not to interfere; Éponine only invited her sister and brother and did not tell her parents of the wedding.

After the wedding, Enjolras and Éponine came to the small rented reception room after the rest of the guests had arrived, and were greeted by cheers, wolf-whistles, and shouts of "I knew it! I knew they would get together!" from Grantaire. Eventually, the focus turned from the newlyweds as dinner began. Éponine handed her husband a thin, rectangular-shaped gift elegantly wrapped in silver paper; it was a book he had been attempting to locate for a year straight. After thanking her with a kiss on the cheek, he held out a simple white envelope to her. She opened it to find a stack of papers folded neatly inside.

"It's a deed," he explained. "To the property you were looking at."

Normally Éponine wasn't overly emotional or sentimental, but after finding herself the bride of a man who would do literally anything to ensure her happiness, she began to tear up and choked out her heartfelt thanks.

"But what about paying for student loans?" she asked, trying not to ruin her mascara – the _one time_ she actually wore makeup, she was now in the process of ruining it. "I know you graduated last year, but–"

"I didn't take out any student loans."

She looked at him in shock. "But surely– I mean, _everyone_ takes out loans–"

"I would have told you if I borrowed money for college. I wouldn't hide that from you, 'Ponine–"

"Of course not, but–"

He placed a hand over hers. "Can we discuss this later? Let's just enjoy the day."

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." He tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear with a tender touch. "Did you look at all the papers?" he prompted gently.

Éponine immediately began to flip through the papers and stopped, eyes wide. "You didn't." She looked at him. "Do we seriously have enough money to build a house?"

"A gift from my parents. It won't be a large place, but it should be enough to start–"

She kissed him, long and hard as she attempted to express the tangled jumble of emotion coursing through her veins. Pulling back, she said, "Thank you."

"Anything to make you happy."

* * *

_snapshot four – the revelation on the beach_

They walked down the beach together, the wind blowing her hair in every direction as she leaned into him, his arm around her shoulder. She stepped out of his embrace and, slipping her hand into his, pulled him down so they sat on the sand together. They stayed there for a while, leaning into each other and watching the sunset over the bay. Éponine played with the ring on her finger as Enjolras spoke.

"I just want you to understand, though we've been trying for a while, maybe it's just not the right time. I don't blame you–"

"I know. I'm glad you brought it up, actually," she said causally. She moved out of her husband's arms and turned to sit cross-legged in front of him to see his face as she said the next phrase. "We don't need to keep trying. At least, not for the next nine months."

She watched with a smile as realization crept over his features. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes," she said with a laugh as the wind blew her hair in her face.

"When did you…"

"I found out this morning, but I wanted to wait until you got home from work. I really didn't want to tell you over the phone."

He laughed. "If you did, I probably would have hit something."

"We can't have that, now can we?" she said with a smile.

Enjolras stood and gathered a laughing Éponine in his arms, carrying her up the path to their small home. When they reached the porch, he set her down and kissed her.

* * *

_snapshot five – the list and the allusion_

"No. Absolutely not. Enjolras, we are not naming our daughter Patria."

"Patria has cultural significance. _Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori_–" Enjolras began, but his wife cut him off.

"Sounding smart and speaking Greek isn't helping your case," Éponine interrupted.

"It's Latin. Horace was a Roman poet," Enjolras explained.

"Whatever. Who names their daughter _homeland_?" Éponine said, exasperated.

The husband and wife sat together at the small table in their kitchen, a pen and a notepad bearing a handwritten list between them. He rested his forearms on the surface of the table as she leaned back, putting a hand on her lower back to ease discomfort as the child inside her full stomach shifted. "Do you want to continue tomorrow?" Enjolras asked.

"Not when you want to name our daughter _Patria_," Éponine said seriously. Enjolras smiled at her.

"What are your suggestions?" he inquired, gesturing to the paper between them.

"Laurette?" Enjolras shrugged. "Nicolette?"

"It makes me think of nicotine," he said.

"Isabelle?"

"I will constantly be reminded of _Twilight_."

"Marguerite?"

"Perhaps, but it's not my first choice."

"Not like Patria," Éponine teased with a smile.

"What about Lucie?" Enjolras asked.

"I knew a girl named Lucie once."

"Is that a good or a bad thing when it comes to the name?"

"We hated each other," she said matter-of-factly.

"No Lucie, then. What about Rébecca?" Éponine shook her head. "Scholastique?"

She looked at him, incredulous. "That's a _name_?"

"Yes. I put it in there to make sure you were actually paying attention." Éponine glared at him, but a slight smile tugged at her lips. "What about Jeanne?"

Éponine raised an eyebrow. "Why Jeanne?"

"Jeanne d'Arc was only one of the most influential women in the entire history of France."

"Point taken." Éponine jotted down _Jeanne_ on the paper. "Well, I like it. It's definitely on the list."

"Do you like it enough to call our daughter by that name?" Enjolras inquired.

"I'll have to think about it." She yawned, stretching. "I'm going to bed."

He stood. "I'll join you."

"If you have something you need to do, you don't need to feel that you need to cater to me–"

"Again, I'll join you." Enjolras extended a hand to his wife. "Need help getting up?" he asked politely.

Éponine snorted. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid." She attempted to stand, but, with a frustrated sigh as her effort failed, she grabbed his hand. "Fine. You can say 'I told you so.'"

Enjolras pulled her to her feet. "It's rather a rude statement. I'll pass."

She rolled her eyes. "You make being chivalrous an art form." But a smile crossed her lips as he kissed her gently.

* * *

_snapshot six – the late arrival_

The group of friends sat around the table in Marius and Cosette's home, discussing that morning's _défilé militaire du quatorzième Juillet_, the Bastille Day military parade, and the holiday in general, when Grantaire turned to Enjolras.

"So, if you were there in seventeen eighty-nine, would you have stormed the Bastille?"

"Yes." Enjolras' response was received with statements of approval from the group around the table.

"Would you have let him go?" Musichetta asked Éponine.

She scoffed. "Are you kidding? I wouldn't be able to stop him." Éponine eyed her husband with a smile. "And I would have gone with him, too." Cosette and Musichetta voiced their agreement.

"But would _you_ have let _her_ go, Enjolras?" Combeferre inquired.

"Do you think I want to be murdered in my sleep tonight?" Enjolras replied with a smile, looking at his wife.

A chorus of laughter went around the table, and Grantaire raised his glass. "Here's to Apollo and Athena!"

As the conversation turned from the holiday to mythology, Enjolras took his wife's hand in his and ran his thumb over her knuckles. She rested her free hand on her swollen stomach, feeling the infant shift inside her. Her thoughts turned to her latest appointment with her doctor; he had told her it was nothing to worry about that, five days overdue, she hadn't delivered yet, but she knew she should have had the baby by now. Éponine remembered she had noticed she was carrying low that morning when she had looked at herself in the mirror. There had been pain in her lower back throughout the day, but she hadn't informed Enjolras of it yet, not wanting to alarm him. Ironically, he worried enough for both of them.

A spasm went through her lower back, and she tensed, grimacing slightly.

"What wrong?" Enjolras inquired immediately in a low voice, concern in his tone.

"Back pain," she said, attempting to massage the ache away, but it did not alleviate. "I'll be fine."

An even sharper pain shot through her, and she felt warmth rush between her legs. She bit her lip against the pain, drawing in a sharp breath loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the room.

"Éponine, you're not fine. What's wrong?" Enjolras pressed.

"My water just broke."

She stood, feeling oddly calm. Shouldn't she be crying or something? Everyone stared at her for a moment before Enjolras spoke. "You're… you're in labor?"

"It seems so." She looked down at the now-stained chair she had just vacated. "Sorry about the chair, Cosette."

"Don't worry about it," the blonde replied. She stood, moving her one-year-old son Victor without a glance from her lap to the person on her left, who turned out to be Grantaire; a panicked look grew on his features as Cosette left and Victor began to whimper.

Enjolras put a hand on Éponine's arm. "Do you want to sit down or something? I can get the car."

She shook her head. "It's fine. Get the car and call the hospital. I'll get my purse and meet you outside." Enjolras nodded and all but ran out the door as everyone around the table stood quickly, simultaneously asking if she needed anything. Musichetta and Cosette stepped forward as the boys, worried, crowded around Éponine.

"Give her some breathing room," Musichetta firmly, taking Éponine by the arm. The dark-haired woman gripped her friend's hand, stumbling uncharacteristically as another pain shot through her.

Cosette brushed a strand out of Éponine's eyes with a kind smile. "How dilated are you?"

"Not too far," Éponine said in a tense voice, trying to get past the pain. "I haven't been counting."

"Dilated?" Grantaire asked, awkwardly shifting Victor in his arms.

"How close or far the contractions are apart," Joly explained. "The closer the contractions are, the sooner the actually delivery will be. She's got a while before then."

"Thank you for discussing my labor process as if I'm not here," Éponine said sarcastically, though her lips curled in a smile. As another spasm shot through her, she could not hold back the soft cry of pain that came from her lips. "Where is he?" she said through gritted teeth, not angry with her husband but unable to communicate any other way through the pain.

As if in answer, Enjolras' car horn – no one else would honk like that – sounded outside. Éponine felt an arm move around her back and under her arms, and she looked up to see Marius. Her friend helped her out the door and to the car where Enjolras was waiting anxiously and apprehensively, looking as if he wanted to run to his wife's side but simultaneously wanting to break every speed limit on the way to the hospital the moment she got into the vehicle.

Marius helped Éponine into the passenger seat. The moment Enjolras pulled the car out onto the street, fireworks lit up the dark sky above them in a colorful explosion.

* * *

_snapshot seven – the early return_

"Is Daddy going to be home for Christmas?"

Éponine gave her daughter a sad smile. "I don't think so, _ma chérie_," she said, running a hand through Jeanne's blonde curls. "He's still on his business trip. But we'll celebrate Christmas when he comes home, I promise." She kissed the five-year-old on the forehead. "Go to sleep, Jeanne." Just then, lightening lit up the sky and thunder crashed overhead, rain and wind blowing against the small house.

"I don't like the noise, _maman_," Jeanne said, obviously trying to brave, but fear still shone in her brown eyes.

"You can sleep in my bed tonight," Éponine said with a smile. _It is Christmas Eve, after all._

Once the mother and daughter were settled in the master bedroom, Éponine put in Disney's _Mary Poppins_ – with French subtitles, of course – and watched as Jeanne's fear lessened while Julie Andrews sang and danced. The five-year-old leaned into Éponine's side and eventually fell asleep.

Enjolras had been called away on a mandatory meeting his law firm demanded he attend. As one of the firm's top lawyers, he couldn't refuse, though he try to appeal for Jeanne's sake; no one knew exactly how the five-year-old would take her father's absence on the holiday. Marius and Cosette offered to let Éponine and Jeanne stay with them and their six-year-old son Victor in Paris for Christmas, but Éponine decided to stay home with her daughter. _Maybe Jeanne would have been happier if there were more people around_, she thought as she drifted to sleep.

"Daddy! Daddy! You're home!"

Éponine woke to Jeanne's exclamations. Enjolras stood in the doorway of the bedroom and knelt as his daughter flew into his arms. "Merry Christmas, Jeanne," he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. As Jeanne continued to talk rapidly, Enjolras looked over her head to Éponine, who was still seated on the bed.

He stood. "Why don't you go to wait by the tree, Jeanne? We'll be in to open presents after I talk to your _maman_." Jeanne left the room as Éponine stood.

"You're soaking wet," she said as she approached him. "There's no way we can save that suit."

"Merry Christmas to you, too. I just drove two and a half hours to get here. It rained the entire way."

Éponine embraced her husband, wet clothes and all. "You know I don't really care about your suit."

"I know. How did she hold up with me being gone?" he said as she rested her head on his chest. "I noticed you two fell asleep in here together."

"There was a thunderstorm, and I didn't have the heart to leave her alone." She looked up at him. "I'm just glad you're home."

"I'm grateful to see you and Jeanne," he said. "Merry Christmas, 'Ponine."

"Merry Christmas, Enjolras."

* * *

_snapshot eight – the power outage_

Éponine looked up from her book as the lights flickered and went out.

_Great_.

At least Jeanne was spending the night at a friend's house; as much as she loved her daughter, Éponine was not looking forward to comforting the six-year-old through her fear of the dark. "Enjolras?" she called into the quiet house, directing her voice to the back door.

"Yes?" She heard him open the door leading to the porch and step into the house. "Why are all the lights off?"

"The power went out." She stood and reached out a hand, searching for the side table to place her book on its surface. "Do we have any candles?" Éponine muttered a curse as she nearly tripped over the rug in the middle of the family room.

"Are you alright?" Éponine felt Enjolras' hand on her arm and saw a faint light admitting from the screen of his phone. _Why didn't I think of that?_ she thought.

"I'm fine," she replied, pulling out her own phone.

"I don't think we have any candles."

"Well, at least Jeanne is at a friend's house," Éponine commented. She looked up at her husband, the combined lights from the phones casting his features into sharp relief. _Only he can look attractive under cell phone lights_, she thought with a smile.

"Are you referring to the fact that we would have to spend almost two hours convincing her to fall asleep if she were here?"

"Well, technically yes," she replied, "but there's another thing. She isn't very happy when we do this."

She tossed her phone aside, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and kissed him hard.

A few weeks after their wedding, Éponine had struggled slightly with memories of her violent relationship with Montparnasse, the recollections flashing before her eyes at the most inopportune times. Enjolras had supported her through every episode, holding her all night if necessary. Having always been seemingly strong and bulletproof, Éponine let down her walls when alone with Enjolras; he saw her in a way very few others did, and she felt safe with him, having not felt truly secure in any previous relationship.

But, in the six years they had been married, Éponine was pleased to say Enjolras had progressed quickly in their romantic endeavors. When they first had begun dating, he had been careful to always let her take the first step, never forcing her to do anything she didn't want. He was so careful about not overstepping her boundaries she had to tell him that it really was not a problem with her if he took control once in a while.

He had learned much since then.

Enjolras' hands moved low on her hips as she reached up to run her fingers through his hair. He pulled her closer so their bodies were flush against each other, her leg moving up to rest near his hip. Never breaking the kiss, he ran his hands up her body to the hem of her shirt, his hands sliding under the fabric to the smooth skin and moving up her torso.

"This progressed quickly," Éponine breathed, almost gasping as her husband's lips left hers and found the hollow of her throat.

"Do you want to stop?" Enjolras asked, immediately pulling away, taking his hands quickly from underneath her shirt. His blue gaze met hers, looking carefully for signs of a flashback she hadn't had in years. Normally Éponine was touched that Enjolras was so careful to make sure she was comfortable with whatever was going on.

Now was not one of those times.

"Stop talking and kiss me."

He obliged.

* * *

_snapshot nine – the girl with the pink ribbon_

"Now, Jeanne, please be on your best behavior," Éponine said as she held her seven-year-old daughter's hand. "Remember, it's Victor's birthday party. You have to do what he wants."

"Yes, _maman_."

"We'll be talking with the adults," Enjolras told Jeanne. "We'll be right here if you need us."

"Promise?" Jeanne said seriously, looking up at her father.

"Promise."

"Aunt Cosette and Uncle Marius will take good care of you," Éponine said as they went to the door.

Cosette opened the door and pleasantries were exchanged. As they were ushered into the house, Cosette and Marius' eight-year-old son ran into the foyer. "_Maman_–" Victor stopped at the sight of Jeanne.

The two children stared at each other. Jeanne fiddled with the pink ribbon with her blonde hair as Victor shifted awkwardly.

"Aren't you going to greet our guests, Victor?" Cosette promoted.

"Hello," the boy said, meeting Jeanne's wide brown eyes for a moment before looking away.

"Hello," Jeanne said quietly.

"Can you show Jeanne the yard, Victor?" Cosette asked.

"Yes, _maman_." The two children left the adults, who watched Victor and Jeanne walk across the house to the back door; a small group of children could be seen in the yard beyond.

Cosette left to prepare Victor's birthday cake in the kitchen, instructing Enjolras and Éponine to leave their belongings in the hall closet. As they did so, she turned to her husband. "Do you think Jeanne will be alright with all the other children? She doesn't have very many friends at school. Maybe we should–"

"She'll be fine," Enjolras said with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry."

* * *

_snapshot ten – the chance encounter_

Éponine smiled at her daughter as they walked through the door of the small Parisian café. "Your father and I met in a café like this," she said as they moved into the line before the counter.

"Really?" the eight-year-old said, looking up at her mother.

Éponine nodded. "It was near the university he went to at the time. Someone ran into me and spilled my coffee, and your father helped me clean up the mess. One thing led to another, and here we are, almost nine years later." She refused to let herself dwell on the rollercoaster that had defined her relationship with Enjolras at the time – thank goodness it had smoothed out quickly after their first date – and listened as Jeanne spoke rapidly about an event at school during the week. They ordered their drinks and went to a small table by the large window that looked out on the street beyond; as they settled in their seats, Éponine lifted her coffee to her lips and glanced out the window.

She saw who she assumed were a homeless couple approach a businessman. As the woman spoke, the man attempted to take the businessman's wallet, but the businessman stepped away, furious. The homeless couple bolted away as the businessman pulled out his phone, clearly intending to call the police. Éponine almost dropped her coffee as the couple came closer.

Thénardier and his wife shot furtive glances over their shoulders, and crossed the street through traffic, attempting to disappear into the crowd that filled the sidewalk on the other side. As they passed the café, they looked in the window, and Éponine gazed at her parents for the first time in nine years without a word.

Their eyes locked with hers for a moment and shifted to Jeanne, who had yet to notice them. The couple clearly had not fared well over the years; Éponine knew they wore homeless disguises to fool passersby but their features were sharper, their appearance worn, figures slightly stooped, and hair gray, almost white. She realized they would be in their sixties or even seventies by now, and had never seen their granddaughter before that day.

"Who are they, _maman_?" Jeanne asked innocently.

Éponine looked away from her parents to her daughter. "No one, _ma chérie_," she said with a forced smile, and continued as Jeanne gave her an unconvinced look. "It's nothing for you to worry about, Jeanne. How about you tell me about your play date with Victor?"

As the eight-year-old chattered, forgetting the sight of her grandparents, Éponine looked out the window.

Her parents were gone.

Éponine and Jeanne left the café, hailing a taxi to the courthouse Enjolras was working in that day. He had told Éponine the case would end around three, and she decided to surprise him and arrive unannounced with Jeanne to wait for him to leave the courtroom. He had been unable to tell her the details of the case, as usual, but she could tell it was important to him. He had been tense during the course of the trial; though he never took out his stress out on his family, Éponine knew him well enough to see it despite the fact that he never mentioned it, preferring to separate his work and home life.

They arrive at the courthouse five minutes to three and went into the building. Éponine led her daughter to the office Enjolras used while working in Paris and paused before entering the small room. Her husband was looking over a stack of papers, more papers strewn over the mahogany surface. His features were lined, a golden curl resting on his forehead. Éponine gently restrained Jeanne from running into the room and put a finger to her lips before knocking on the door.

"Come in," Enjolras said, not looking up from the paper in his hand.

"Daddy!" Jeanne cried, running into the room, and Enjolras looked up, a smile immediately gracing his features and removing every trace of anxiety from his face. He stood from his desk, moving to the side of the piece of furniture to greet his daughter.

"Jeanne! What are you doing here?" Enjolras said with a smile as he bent to embrace his daughter.

"_Maman_ want to surprise you," the eight-year-old said with a toothy grin.

"How did the case go?" Éponine asked as she stepped forward.

"We lost," he replied, keeping his tone neutral.

"I'm sorry," Jeanne said before Éponine could speak.

He gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's alright, Jeanne. I have to finish up some paperwork, so why don't you go wait in the hall? I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay, daddy." Jeanne moved to the door, but Éponine hesitated before leaving.

"Do you need anything?" she asked quietly, meeting her husband's gaze.

He ran a hand through his hair. "No, but thank you. I only have a few more documents and reports to go through." He gave her a tired smile. "It will only take a minute, I promise."

True to his word, Enjolras finished quickly and returned to his waiting family. The drive home wasn't _tense_, per se, but Enjolras was quiet and only commented occasionally on Jeanne's chatter. Éponine watched her husband carefully, seeing the stress in the planes of his body underneath the dark fabric of his suit; he loosened his tie five minutes into the drive.

When they reached their bayside home, Jeanne ran into the house, but Enjolras and Éponine stayed in the car for a moment. She turned to him, wanting to ask hundreds of question, but merely asked, "How did it really go?"

Enjolras sighed, his form drained of energy. "It was a nineteen-year-old girl in for trying to shoot her father after he raped her multiple times. She claimed self-defense but when she shot him, he was not forcing himself on her right then, so the court ruled that she committed attempted murder even though it technically was self-defense. Her father is a government official, so the court favored him. She's going to jail for three months while he goes free and getting his medical bills paid by the government. She originally was going in for nine months, and I negotiated it down to three, but she shouldn't be doing jail time at all." He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "How did the court become so corrupt? She should have gone free and he should have gone to jail."

Éponine took her husband's hand in hers, making a small circle with her thumb over the back of his hand. "Enjolras, look at me." He obeyed, features lined. "You did your best, but there was nothing more you could do. You can't save everyone. You did your best, Enjolras." She gave him a kind smile. "Let's go make sure Jeanne isn't wreaking havoc inside, alright? Take a break tonight. I'll do everything."

"Éponine, you shouldn't–"

"It's fine. Just relax. You've earned it." The couple exited the car and walked up the driveway. She slipped her arm around her husband and leaned into him as they stepped into the house together.

As they sat in bed late that evening, Éponine set aside her book and drew her knees to her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs. Enjolras caught sight of her pensive attitude and put down his own novel, removing his black-rimmed glasses and waited for her to speak.

"I saw my parents today," she finally said.

"Where?"

"I stopped by a café with Jeanne before we went to the courthouse," she said, resting her chin on her knees. "I saw them trying to rob a businessman, but they left when it looked like he was going to call the police. They passed by the café as they were leaving, and they saw me and Jeanne."

"How long has it been since you've seen them?"

"Marius and Cosette's wedding reception."

"Almost nine years, then." They sat in silence for a moment, and Éponine unfolded herself and moved to lean against her husband's side, resting her head on his shoulder as he put an arm around her shoulders. "Do you have any desire to see them again?" he asked after a moment.

"No." Éponine sighed. "I didn't tell Jeanne who they were. I never want her to meet them. I don't want her to know my past."

"Your past is nothing to ashamed of–"

"You might believe that, but no one else does." She shifted closer to him as he pressed his lips to her temple.

"We'll get through this together," he said. "We always have, and we always will. I promise."


End file.
